Gregor the Underlander
by Team Juggernaut
Summary: Mankind has always misunderstood the mythic purgatory between life and death, including Gregor, who has no interest in understanding it. But when Death, a god-like being that reigns supreme over the end of life, attempts to take away all life in the Underland, Gregor knows he stands no chance. And he can only do one thing: venture into purgatory, and get the key to kill death.
1. Prolouge: Rise of a god

**Ok, now that I'm gonna put effort in my stories, I want to have no bad reviews, so I deleted the other one. I'm starting fresh, so here it goes. **

_ I have seen gods rise, but more than that, I have seen gods fall. They have been felled by their own foolishness, slaughtered by their own kind-me. They refused to accept that it was destiny for death and destruction to rule the universe, that it was our duty to conquer all life, to ascend to the realms that only that fool Chaos Himself could have imagined. Yet they refused it-they abandoned their birthright, in doing so, yielded themselves to me._

_ Once I called them my brothers. We did not share blood, but we lived together, fought together, evolved together. Yet when I continued our glory, they denounced me, called me a traitor, fought me...and died for it...as they deserved. My own love, Light, the builder of Weapons, the one, the only, I would have died for...she left me to fend for myself. She would not accept me, would not give me her love. She was brainwashed by those fools into abandoning me._

_ My brothers met me on the battlefield. My army stood behind me, ready to follow me to victory. The star shone in the sky, blazing with the fire that coursed through my body. I charged raised my Spear...and struck down my brothers. One by one, they fell, their own soldiers dropping like cowards. They were doomed, yet they defied me, the fools...what they called bravery, I called stupidity. I was so sure I would have the universe, that I would become that same God that Order and Chaos were...my brothers and I, we called ourselves gods, but they had the weaknesses of any mortal. They regrouped, attacked together, without the honor of a true warrior, overcame me._

_ I was banished to a world that I did not know, away from the future that awaited me. They disappeared, to where I did not know, nor did I care. For millenia I lived in exile, with no one to turn to...even my love had betrayed me. It taught me that machines needed only to love one thing-power, what they craved. I wanted power, I was so close to it...and yet so far. My luck turned when I was freed by that fool Thanatos. He calls himself a tyrant, yet he is but my servant, my slave...he is my Messenger to the mortal worlds. He is the Lord of Death-I am the God of Death._

_ Now, after so many years, I stand before the mortal worlds, a particular one called the Underland. These..._insects..._vile, insects that call themselves humans...they think they are so advanced. Yet, they only wage war with swords and shields...as well as a slightly more durable version of skin they don themsleves, called armor. _

_They are destructive to many other beings in the pathetic Underland, but I am apathetic to this destruction. But I crave death to happen all around me. None of these creatures has any right to live out such a wretched, pitiable existence. My anger is exerted when I think of their failure...and only one option crosses my mind. _

_The death of all beings in the Underland. _


	2. Alone

**I know you guys liked the previous chapter. Alright, on with the story! **

** PART 1: SOLITITUDE**

* * *

**CHAPTER 1:ALONE**

They weren't the best people he had encountered...no, not by a long shot. They had even tried to condemn him to his own death, and grudgingly accepted that he wasn't guilty.

Yet, the thought of killing them bemused him and was inconceivable.

Gregor ducked a spear that was thrown at him, and deftly dodged a torch hurled at his face. It had at first seemed like he was running through a dark void, but soon, his solititude dissolved, and so did the world he was in. The world warped and disoriented into...the Underland?

Gregor had stood with joy, taking in the breathtaking sights of the stone city standing in full regalia, Regalia.

Abruptly, a mob of armed and swearing underlanders closed in on him. Gregor searched for his love, Luxa, in the mob, but failed utterly in finding her. Minorly dejected, Gregor reached out to shake an Underlander's hand...but swiftly pulled it back, narrowly escaping the sword that came plunging down.

Not knowing what was happening, Gregor jumped over the mob and began to run, screaming back, "What are you doing?"

To which the Underlanders raucously hissed back, "We want you dead!"

Gregor, now too alarmed think articulately, continued his desperate run to escape the raving Underlanders. He had always known that they loved him during wars but thought he garnered danger towards them in peacetime. Courtesy to his saving their countless lives, of course.

But wanting him dead? This was beyond his most fanatical dreams! He continued his long, anxious run through this dreadful, forsaken place...until a sudden warp in reality transported him and the Underlanders to a dead end in a long, narrow cave.

There was no way out.

Gregor leisurely turned around, dreading what he would see...and felt excruciating pain. He looked at his now bleeding shoulder, and gaped in horror at the sword that clung to his shoulder.

Now on the brink of insanity, Gregor mustered up all his reason, and stuttered out, "Why? W-Why do you want me dead?"

"What do you think?" The Underlanders howled back, taking his question as a ludicrous joke. "Because of you, so many of our people died!"

"Yes!" Another aged man contracted. "The prophecy called for your death, not my son's death!"

A third woman chimed in furiously, "You dastardly overlander! Why did you not fufuill the Prophecy of the Bane?"

"Why didn't you kill the rat when you could?"

"Why didn't you die from the Bane?"

"Why did you let Ares die?"

"Why are you alive? Why? WHY?!"

Gradually, more and more voices cluttered together in a disorderly, chaotic chant. What they were saying, Gregor could not comprehend. But only one thing was clear, and it was the only thing that was of any significance.

They wanted him dead.

Suddenly, a strident, penetrating yet beautiful voice rang out, "ENOUGH!"

At the sound of the voice, Gregor couldn't help but faintly smile, despite the given situation he was in, him being on the verge of being killed. Gregor caught a glimpse of blond hair, and a flash of virtually translucent skin.

It was Luxa.

"Luxa!" Gregor cried in grief, holding his pained arms out to her. "Please! Make them stop!"

Luxa stared at him blankly for a minute, and after looking around in amusement, she sneered at him. "Overlander." She coolly said. "You wish to be pardoned?"

Gregor grabbed her feet in stimulation. "Yes! Yes!" He cried over and over again, becoming more and more blissful.

Luxa looked him over, and then gave a dismal sigh. "Very well." She gave Gregor a hand, which he greedily took, and was helped up. Without hesitating, Gregor's face broke out into a big smile, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her.

Abruptly, without warning, Luxa gave Gregor a shove with gargantuan force that Gregor did not foresee that she was capable of, and slammed into the stone wall, the pain being nearly unbearable. And it was this pain that brought him back to reality. It wasn't entirely a physical pain that engulfed him; it was an emotional one, as well.

So pained was he that words failed him. Instead, thinking that his eyes were conjuring him, he partially opened his mouth, the only thing leaving his mouth an inaudible uncharismatic squeak.

The vibrant queen cackled in amusement, though her outward appearance conceiled what she was feeling inwardly. Unexpectedly, her grief betrayed her, and tears of anguish rained from her beautiful eyes.

Instantaneously, Gregor found his voice, in stark contrast to what he was feeling before, and cried out, "Luxa, what's the matter?" Gregor inched towards her, inconspicuous tears finding their way out of his eyes.

In turn, Luxa exerted her anger, causing more tears to pour from her eyes, and slapped Gregor instinctively and as hard as she could. Literally feeling heartbroken, nonetheless, Gregor did not move away, causing Luxa to shriek.

"I loved you!" Luxa cried passionately. "I loved you! But you caused so many people to die of the Underland! Now, I cannot help but hate you!"

Gregor looked on in despair as she tore a slip of paper from her pocket...wait, no...wasn't that...it was the picture he had given her all those years ago in the museum!

Now in turmoil, Gregor continued to dejectedly watch Luxa...but his dejectedness soon turned into horror as she tore the picture into pieces. Soon, little bits of yellowing paper sprinkled down onto the hard, cavernous floor. Amidst the mess, Gregor caught minor glimpses of his eyes...Luxa's nose...His cheek...and their smiles...

Gone. It was all gone.

Horror soon vanished, turning into a horrific form of sheer anger. Gregor was stunned at Luxa's vanity in her actions, and was throbbing with rage at how easily she tore through the picture. Just the mere thought of what she had done infuriated Gregor, and his blood boiled to attack her...

No, Gregor reminded himself. He wouln't, no, he couldn't, let himself experience that again. He couldn't become a killer again, even if his life depended on it. He just couldn't.

Nonetheless, Luxa soon found herself being hurled back at the wave of Underlanders, all dropping their arms to catch their beloved queen.

Closing his eyes rapidly, he found that the only assurance from keeping him to go rager was taking deep breaths. It essentially did cool Gregor down, but it didn't help that he opened his eyes to see thousands of pairs of eyes aimed at him, all laced in venom and exerting fury.

Luxa pompously strided foward, her vicious glare enough to keep an army of cutters at bay. "You, Overlander...for touching the exalted body of a queen, you must be put to death!" Luxa hissed out in a monstrous voice that Gregor did not recognize as her's.

Snatching up a sword from one of her loyal subjects, she strode towards where Gregor stood, and pointed it at him.

"Die, Overlander." Luxa stated, no regret in her voice at all, tinted with malice. She raised the sword, and swung it down.

An ordinary person would raise their hands in a feeble attempt to shield themselves from the wrath of the sword.

An honorable person would take their death sentence, hands down at their sides.

A soldier would try to take the sword and stop the raving queen.

Gregor did none of these. In fact, he considered none of these options. Which was not surprising, considering the vital fact that he had not one coherent thought in his head at the instance.

The sword was coming down...he would lose his life...but he had laid down his life so many times for these wretches! And for that they were this ungrateful...?

Gregor was only seeing red. He thought it was his own blood, and found it strange that no agonizing pain was overcoming him.

Am I dead already? Wow, that was quick, Gregor thought. Abruptly, his hand unobstructively went out, and he felt some metal before the metal snapped. His hand inched foward, and felt something soft. Automatically tightening his brawny grip whatever he was holding, he sent it flying. And everything went dark.

Gregor had thrown Luxa into the crowd of Underlanders once again. A burly Underland man of about 40 ran up to Gregor and threw a punch at him. Gregor grabbed the man's wrist, and with definite ease, twisted it to an unnatural anger, and shoved the man back, leaving him grabbling with his disfigured arm and his grunts of agony.

Gregor went on to pound the ground repeatedly, creating shockwaves powerful enough for the mob to loosen their grip on their weapons...just what Gregor had intended. Smashing a man in the jaw, the man let out a bloodcurdling howl of feral pain, and Gregor emphasized the importance he placed on this move by grabbing a sword, and began slashing at everything and everyone in sight.

Blood went flying meaninglylessly through the air, but Gregor didn't care. He was at leisure to do anything he wanted, and nothing could stop him. He resumed his meandering way of killing these adversaries...was that Vikus's face? Howard's? Hazard's? He didn't care. They dared to attempt to kill him, and now they were to suffer the dire consequences.

And all of a sudden, it seemed like Gregor had woken up to see what his rager side was doing. He looked in horror (and some awe) at the disgruntled and mutilated bodies that lay strewn across the cave. Had he killed everyone?

No. He had not. There was one victim left, huddling in front of him in fear.

Luxa.

"Don't do it, Gregor!" She sobbed in anguish. "Please, do not do it!"

To Gregor's rager side, these moans infuriated him and did not help her fate in the very least.

But his guilty subconsciousness argued with him, begging him not to committ the unforgiveable deed. Which he really had to wonder about, courtesy to her attempt to kill him.

Yet, Gregor had trouble contemplating the decision of taking a human's life while he was in his right state of mind, while he was sane, while he wasn't consumed by the sheer hatred of his rager side.

Peering closely at Luxa, he found that she was clinging to his feet, begging him not to punish her, begging him not to end her life while she had not hesitated to attempt to end his.

Ironic, wasn't it?

This wasn't the ordinary picture Gregor had of Luxa. He always pictured her in a picturesque scene, strong to attack, and amp to defend.

It wasn't her right now. Here she was, patheticly strewn on the floor, her clothes nearly torn to shreds by the mighty endeavors Gregor had taken to defend himself from her. Just the sight of her like this enraged Gregor, which had influence on his next action.

Thinking of her relentless attempts to shatter his heart, he, in turn, would shatter her heart...literally. Well, not shatter it, but hack it to little pieces.

Fearing that her sobs would be heard by any random cave dwellers, Gregor, undeterred by his harsh decision, knew what to do (at least, his rager side did). Consumed by rage and deprivation of his what his soul needed, Gregor knew Luxa's hour had come!

He saw red once again, his subconsciousness being strewn aside like trash. He swung his sword down, and continued to do so relentlessly. Perhaps he would have kept doing this for the rest of his miserable life if it weren't for her terrible cries...!

* * *

It was the dark that he hated the most. It seemed like once everything was dark, things would start to go wrong. And 99.99999999999% of the time, things did go wrong in the dark (sorry, add one more 9).

Robberies, murders, kidnaps, rapes...they all happened in the night. They seldom happened in the morning, because people knew what would happen if they were caught in the day light.

But it was not only what went on in the world.

It also concerned what went on in Gregor's head.

Every night, after all the trauma that had occured to him, he had terrible nightmares like the one above, and some were even more horrifying and devastating than this one.

The nightmare he had on the night that his parents were torn to pieces by those bastards in the midst of night, collecting organs to sell to people, was the worst he'd ever had. So far, he couldn't find any nightmare that even close to rivalled it.

The nightmares he'd had when he was fighting the War of Time in the underland-no, scratch that, bad dreams-could not even be considered frightening considering to what he endured every day now. They were like these little fairy tales that were a little more pessimistic than all the rest, thats all.

Gregor would gladly turn his life now away if he could just dive into the refugee he'd had all those years ago. Now, here he was, hardened beyond the point of anything he'd ever done or seen. Here he was, living in a Hell where the punisher was not God but enriched criminals who had resorted to a life of crime and dominated a larger part of the city.

He had to fight regularly, and had become more accustomed to fist fighting than he'd ever wanted to. True, he actually had a knack for it, but he was more than willing to give it up if he could just have a normal family again, the way he used to live.

Looking back at what happened in the War of Time, Gregor could imagine the Gnawers rushing at him, trying to overtake him. He had been a vital part of the army, every slash he slashed amounting well over the power of the slashes of 10 soldiers. But now, he was a one man army. He could just picture some rats sauntering over to where he was sitting. In an unobstructive snap, he could imagine himself standing up, holding a mere butcher's knife in his hand.

He could imagine the corpses of the rat's bodies when he was finished with them.

It all seemed so easy to him now, now that he was an 18 year old, a virtual adult.

His only regret was that it wasn't so easy back then. Maybe if that was the case, so many people that had died in the War of Time would be alive right now.

Gregor blankly gazed across the street, where a well dressed man deviously kicked a groaning pickpocket in the ribs and stepping on him.

Way to go, Gregor half heartedly thought, not caring enough to go and help the gentleman. Then, continuing on his way in the streets in the dark, he stepped over mangled corpses and pools of blood that took up over half of the sidewalk. None of it mattered to Gregor, though. To him, it was only a constant reminder of what he was living in: a hell designed by architects of destructions called terrorists and criminals.

Out of the blue, a car that was adorned in skulls pulled in beside him.

Gregor couldn't help but sport a lopsided smile. Just like I was thinking, he thought, very much amused.

The doors to the car opened, the car being far larger than he had thought, and several men came out, all of them holding guns and adorned in tattoos. They all looked ridiculous to Gregor, who was using his prized possession of echolocation. The men, around three or four years superior to him, were all adeuquately dressed, sporting skinny jeans, white T-shirts and black leather jackets, unzipped.

Their style of dress wasn't ridiculous to Gregor. Hell, that was similar to how he himself dressed.

It was their eyes.

They attempted to squint at Gregor, and tried to give Gregor looks of anger, solititude and ferociousness in one. Instead, they only succeeded in giving Gregor looks of stupidity and depression, though this was probably only because of all he had been through.

Gregor knew that these thugs probably wouldn't be able to see it, but he gave them the look that he most frequently had on: a look that shone of anger, depression, solititude, dangerousness, wildness and cold tactfulness, with tints of ferociousness thrown in.

As Gregor had tactfully guessed, none of the thugs saw his look, though he was sure that if they did, they would have gotten back in their preposterous and bizarre car and droven off somewhere.

One thug donned himself jet black sunglasses, and spoke more impressively than Gregor thought and idiot like him could speak, "We're looking for your money, and your life."

Three more thugs stepped forward, displaying their cocked guns, ready to aim and pull their triggers at a moment's notice.

Gregor, however, did not give them the moment. Punching the thug with the sunglasses in the jaw, he heard a loud crack and blood spilling to the ground, and he already knew the man was dead before he hit the ground. Swiftly scooping up the fallen gun, almost inconspiciously Gregor fired at the rest of the men before they knew what was going on with point-blank accuracy. The men all fell down dead after he few moments, and Gregor stooped over, picking up all their fallen money, quickly pocketing it.

He absent-mindedly searched the car and found bag loads more of money, and without thinking, gave some money to the hapless beggar that sat a few steps from where the action had taken place.

Getting in the car, Gregor hotwired it, not feeling ashamed for driving such a stupid car. Not feeling anything at the moment, Gregor knew he'd be experiencing horror brought upon him from a nightmare that night.

Life was appalling all around. Gregor would feel inclined to punch a person that said that Gregor didn't know that. Gregor had a first hand experience of how bad life was, though. He wasn't afraid to say that he had one of the worst lives in New York City. No, he was bold enough to say that he had the worst live in the country.

One might argue that if it was so bad, he would've taken his own life, but that was an alternative option Gregor had forcibly shoved out of his nearly insane mind. It was because he was tough enough to take it all on. Nothing could undeterr him or his decisions in the world. When he decided to do something, he always went all the way and did it, no matter how difficult an obstacle could be.

Needless to say, he was much tougher than many other current abjected and desolate residents of New York City, who took away their lives daily. It was a regular thing for Gregor to see...BANG! Gregor uninterestedly looked out the window of the car, and saw a falling old man with a gun in his hand crumpling to the ground.

There goes another one, Gregor thought.

But it wasn't just his mere toughness that kept him from the clutches of insanity throughout this whole dilemma. There was one, no actually two, sole sources of happiness that kept him alive and motivated him to actually try to survive.

His sisters. Lizzie and Boots.

They both understood the situation that they were constantly, and yet they always radiantly shown with happiness. Gregor always wanted them to be happy, and tried to conceal the gastly sights of the once robust city from them. Yet, there were times when they were not happy or sad, just grim.

To tell the truth, Gregor didn't know how they knew as much about their situation as Gregor did. Whenever one of them asked what was happening outside, Gregor either briskly walked away or abruptly changed the subject. Deep down inside, he knew that they had the right to know every little thing that he knew. However, he couldn't bring himself to reveal all the bizarre happenings that went on just a few hundred yards from their poorly furnished home.

Gregor managed to get enough money to feed everyone, and had enough more to actually get a better house (courtesy to all the kind muggers that approached him who ended up dead), but he knew they were much more likely to get assaulted in an enhanced and larger house. The last thing he needed to was go home and find their house ransacked and his sisters' dead.

Nonetheless, they lived a morbid, harsh life, and no amount of money could diminsh their hardness and their loss of many good memories.

Wait, no, he had forgot something. There was something else keeping him sane throughout all of this.

It was just a thought, actually. How unbelievable it seemed, that Gregor, living the harsh life he did, was kept more or less sane by mostly a thought.

And the thought consisted of only two words, actually. But only one of them meant anything significant to Gregor.

The Underland.

It wasn't just the Underland, it was his experiences there and what was _in _the Underland.

Namely, it was a specific person, and whenever Gregor thought of the person, his heart beat and he found himself with a faint smile.

Her name began with the letter L, his favorite letter, where a vertical line protudes upward from the left hand side of a horizontal line. Gregor could keep on saying L for hours without tiring himself out, each time saying it joyously.

Next came the letter U, a line going down and then curving around to go in the opposite direction, up.

Then, Gregor had to acknowledge the level X, formed of two intersecting lines that could stretch on forever. "Fitting for the queen, since her beauty could stretch on forever." Gregor's thoughts interjected.

Finally came the letter A, where two lines touching at their tops continue their descent down, a single horizontal line cutting through the space in the middle. Another fitting letter for her and Gregor, as they had once been together, but were now as far from each other as can be, but they never let go of each other in their hearts.

Luxa.

Gregor never forgot her, and never would. He clung on to her fiercely and desperately every day of his life, the mere thought of the name uplifting his disconsolate spirits.

His heart would go on and on for her, and he would never forget her, defying his mother's last words: forget her, Gregor, forget the Underland. Live a happy life...

Tears brushed against his eyes, and once again Gregor was staggered as to how easily tears found their way out of his eyes. Life was hell, and darkness was all around. But no matter how strong Gregor was, he could not stop the harbingers of darkness that lay stumbled out all around the world, all heralds of death.

Sighing, Gregor turned down a demolished alley filled with blood and corpses, and got out of the car, carrying the money. Heading towards a worn-down, nearly broken front door, Gregor nearly had a heart attack when he saw that it had been burned down, ostenisbly the handiwork of criminals.

Dreading what he would see, Gregor knew that a moment of impending doom was well on its way to meet him. "Lizzie...?" Gregor feebly called out. "Boots...?" Expecting a jovial and lively "GREGOR!", he heard none. Gregor dropped the money and inched his way forward, passing through slashed and torn furniture...and blood.

Blood. Why was it here? And...their cabinet door had been blasted open, given the fact that it had been well-locked.

Their money was gone.

But Gregor didn't care about the money, he had brought loads of money home. Only one thing concerned his mind, laying on it heavily: his sisters' well being.

Hurrying towards the compact bedroom that the three of them shared, Gregor wished an instant later that he hadn't gone in. But, alas, he wouldn't have known what had happened to his sisters (it wasn't like he could sit around twiddling his thumbs until word got to him).

Blood coated the room. Books were torn. Furniture was overturned.

But Gregor was oblivious to all of it. It was just trash to him. Only one thing was of any importance to him.

Lizzie and Boot's heads were severed and were on the bed, blood still pouring out of them.

Surprisingly, amidst all the grief, Gregor formed some coherent thoughts.

The blood is still pouring, he pondered savagely. Which means this grisly deed hadn't taken place too long ago.

There was still time to catch the bastards who did this.

There was time to avenge his sisters (oh, and he could await the pleasant little nightmare that lay in store for him that night).


	3. The Chase

**Yeah, so you guys liked my previous chapter? I'd like a bit more reviews...but that's ok! At least I have more than one review per chapter! I'm glad that I have way more user reviews then anonymous reviews.  
**

**CHAPTER 2: THE CHASE**

Time could be a substantial ally...and also could prove to be a punishing foe. The faction it was on depended merely on the situation one was in.

Time applied to Gregor as a punishing foe that he despised. He needed more time!

Gregor raced as stealthily as possible as he could outside of his haggard house, his heart throbbing in rage and grief, heated in anticipation for the coming struggle (it would probably be more of a scuffle considering Gregor's ease with dealing with crime).

Struggle, scuffle...it didn't matter to Gregor whatever the coming fight was named. He only desired to inflict one thing upon these damned robbers and murderers.

Retribution.

"Where the hell are they?" Gregor raged in fury, not even caring to stay silent anymore. It was then that he abruptly realized he had no weapons. "I don't stand a chance against these guys if they have guns and knives," Gregor muttered, his rage dissipating, being replaced with annoyance at his blind stupidity.

"Now what am I-" Gregor's voice trailed off as he reached into his pocket, finding a gun that had an adequate amount of ammo for dealing with the estimated amount of thugs. "More than adequate," thought Gregor hastily. "More than enough. A lot more than enough."

Satisfied with his abundant amount of ammo, he pulled the sleek, jet-black gun out of his torn pocket and continued to observe for the murderers.

"I'll never catch them-" Gregor abruptly stopped, echolocating and catching view of several gangsters hurrying away, leaving some money behind them unknowingly, a welcome surprise to hapless beggars thinned from lack of good.

Bingo! Gregor thundered after them, hastily throwing aside a man in his path who was desperately scrambling to claim the forgotten money, ignoring the man's shriek of pain and alarm.

The robbers eventually caught on to Gregor's hot pursuit of them, almost inconspicious to them. Not revealing theirselves to him, they merely picked up their pace, dropping even more money in their unanticipated haste.

No amount of speed was a match for Gregor, unfortunately. Training weeks in the Underland for this, Gregor, releasing all of his strength and speed, sped after them, not letting himself slow down. His amount of stamina and rage drove him on, not stopping even though he subconsciously realized that he was getting tired.

10 meters...7 meters...3 meters...Gregor's desperate dart after them prevailing-

-And found his nose touching the hard, cold surface of the barrel of a gun.

"Don't move, and we'll promise you a quick death." The slouched over man pointing the gun at him spoke deeply and impressively.

Gregor let his arms reluctantly sag to his sides, followed by approving nods from the rest of the multitude of thugs. Except one. That thug looked away, his eyes avoiding all contact with Gregors.

"Why?" Gregor briefly wondered, demanding to himself why a thug would give a hang about him? Why didn't he want Gregor dead? Gregor wanted him dead for the grisly deed he committed.

"Hmph. Were you going to try and pull of some stupid rescue attempt?" The man coldly sneered, his mangled face slowly curving into a scowl. "Huh, you damned idiot? Well, you're getting it now!", resulting in brisk chuckles from the other thugs. Except the one looking away from Gregor.

Gregor was so intent on focusing on this particular thug that he didn't even notice the swift and brutal kick the man delivered, his painful kick reflecting his harsh demeanor.

"Auughhh...," Gregor moaned, doubling over in pain. He was hungry, and mad in grief. He wasn't exactly mentally stable at the moment either, and he knew it.

And thinking about this was what drove Gregor to abruptly stand straight, and pluck the gun from the man. Wasting no time, he shot the man in the face, admiring his handiwork. Wasting no more time, Gregor took advantage of the opportunity that presented itself to him (the other thugs were rigidly frozen in place) and shot the rest of them, each shot being fatal, mortally wounding, if not killing, the thugs.

Except one.

Gregor still had ammo left.

And there was still one thug standing.

"Perfect," Gregor chuckled harshly with a groan. "You can have a whole clip load of bullets in you." And Gregor raised his gun.

Quick as lightning, the thug sprang at Gregor, and barked angrily at Gregor, "IT WASN'T MY FAULT!"

Astounding Gregor with his versatile speed and strength, the remaining thug yanked the gun away from Gregor and hurled it away to where it was out of both of their grasps. The thug then proceded to slam a heavy fist into Gregor's face, but Gregor flicked the fist away, and knocked the thug away from him.

The thug was breathing heavily, but his posture gave away no indication that the move he had just made was a burden to his well-being. Nonetheless, Gregor had confidence that he would easily thrash this damned thug.

"Was that little move too much for you?" Gregor smugly taunted, noticing the visible sagging of anger of the thug. "Why are you breathing so heavily?"

Slowly, very slowly, the thug pulled at something at his belt, cloaked in his dark dress, and using echolocation, Gregor revealed it to be a hilt.

"Swordplay, huh?" Gregor bitterly thought, spitting in the displaced rubble in front of him. "Can't even fight fair."

Even more slowly than before, the thug began pulling what Gregor presumed to be a heavy sword out of his belt, and in the short instance, got a pretty exact estimate of it's immense length relative to other swords.

Now breathing evenly, the thug spoke impassively, "You're time has come. I didn't want to do this, but I have to." Gregor observed that even while brandishing the heavy sword in all it's glory, the thug showed no signs of pain or burdening.

"Maybe I underestimated this thug," thought a bemused Gregor. Nonetheless, the minor display of strength did nothing more than befuddle Gregor, and he proceded to snap back in an ostricized snarl, "You took my gun away because you knew you stood no chance against a gun. Now you think you can win. But remember," Gregor warned him warily, "I don't need anything but my bare fists to finish you off."

"Overconfidence is something that we should beware of. We learned it in school...remember, Gregor?" The thug roughly mocked his displaced confidence.

This reply stunned Gregor into a stupified trance, in which he could barely make sense of anything. But this trance could not clutch his rager side, which saved Gregor's life on this occasion, causing Gregor to duck out of the incoming sword's path.

Gregor snapped out of his stupor, and snapped, "How do you know my name?"

The thug, surprised at his miss, thinking that he had ascertained Gregor's movements, was slow to reply. In turn, Gregor slammed a overgrown fist into the thug's face, resulting in a loud THWOCK!

Gregor had broken the thug's nose.

"Ach! Bastard!" The thug muttered furiously, holding his nose, blood silently dripping from the wound.

Courtesy to his rager instincts, Gregor snatched the elegant sword from the thug's hand, and threw it harshly on the floor. Grasping the thug by his shirtfront, Gregor growled, "How did you...know my...name?"

The thug attempted to smile, attempting to mislead Gregor into thinking it was one of a friendly sort, and then pulled out a knife, attempting a brisk counterblow.

Gregor ignored the dazed smile, and grabbed the thug's arm, twisting it around long after he let go of the knife, leaving it at an entirely unnatural angle, inconspiciously reaching into the thug's barely visible pocket and grabbing anything else he found in there. Finding nothing else, he hurled the disfigured thug at the floor, and roared, "HOW DID YOU KNOW MY NAME?!"

Visibly cringing, the thug still managed a tentative smirk while hunching over in pain on the ground. Without responding, he forced his cramped legs to uplift him, stumbling a few steps before an unwanted memory swam through his mind.

The thug desperately tried to fight against the memory, agonizingly attempting to bury it back into the depths of his wild mind. But he failed.

He horrifically failed.

_A younger version of the thug, 15 years old, stumbles home from school, drunk to a point of deformation of senses. _

_The thug stopped in front of a battered house, pummelled from repeated shock waves from bombs dropped on the deformed sidewalk an umpteenth number of times. _

_The thug barely paid any mind to the unacceptable condition of his house, with barely any electricity. The others houses on hte block were like his, so why satisfy the urge to complain? _

_Inconspiciously burying his hands in a passerby's deep pockets, the thug found a crumpled, haggard 100 dollar bill. Pleased at his pick pocketing success, the thug ventured onto the pathway leading to his failure of a house. _

_The find of the money significantly improved the meandering thug's day, as it had not been a particularly...obsequious...day. _

_It had began after the thug lost one of his best friends, a raucous but extremely intelligent boy of 15, Luke. _

_The thug had always been trying to get Luke uninvolved with his studies, due to the ample time the thug himself spent studying and the immense amount of time he spent hanging around. After the first bomb hit New York, education wasn't a priority. _

_So the thug never understood Luke's misplaced attention to studying, when he could be enjoying life at the moment. Yet, the two meshed together like glue, and the thug never let go of Luke, though, unbeknownst to the thug, Luke had been trying to let go of him. _

_During the 15 minute break they had from the hellhole known as school, a congenial time known as recess, they were feebly attempting to display their skills at basketball. Unfortunately, the ball bounced off the rim of the basket, and it undulated into the ostensibly perpetual area of the school yard. _

_Suddenly, a shaggy haired boy dived at the ball, which was still in the thug's line of sight, and headed towards the thug and Luke, shouting at them, "Let me play with you!" _

_An agreeable Luke merrily invited the boy to play, who smirked cruelly and hurled the ball over the fence, and madly dashed away, shrieking in delight at his deed. _

_The thug swore, not percepting Luke's abrupt grimace, and looked lazily at Luke. "Ah, that idiot." The thug grumbled in disdain, his words laced with contempt. "How are we gonna enjoy ourselves now?" _

_Turning towards the school, the thug groaned in disparagement, and haphazardly quipped to Luke, "Wanna leave school and go to the beer shop down the road?" Drinking beer and doing drugs was a relatively new idea for the thug, introduced to him mere months ago, sheerly a result of being around the wrong people. _

_Luke punctually swung his head up, his eyes blazing with rage. He himself was hanging around a bad person. He, personally, would end it right here, right now, at this appointed time. _

_"Your idea mortifies me!" Luke bitterly snapped. "How can one even take into consideration leaving school before dismissed, laying down their own studies? How can one sacrifice moments of their live by persisting in these meaningless and idiotic actions? Stay away from me! Go! Do not even approach me, or you will find yourself on the floor, looking up at me, wishing you hadn't approached me!" The words were laced with years' worth of bundled up contempt and fury, and they unswervingly impacted their target: the thug. _

_Standing unevenly, the thug glared at Luke, unsure of what to do and suddenyly insecure of himself. Could Luke be right? He silently wondered to himself, not even daring to give away the slightest hint that he was considering Luke's words. Satisfaction, he told himself. Can't let him have it. _

_Coalescing all the ominous qualities he had into his voice, the thug nastily replied in derision, "Is that a threat I heard, you bastard? I'll come near you when I want, and there ain't anything you can do about it." _

_Luke condescendingly glanced at the thug, and stated, "I have no choice but to attack you. Perhaps then you will see that I am serious." He got into a fighting stance. _

_It was the thug who threw the first punch. Directly impacting Luke square in the nose, the boy was sent staggering back. Unsure of how to handle himself, Luke regained his footing, only to be struck again by the thug in the ribs. Doubling over in pain, Luke quickly regained his posture. _

_"Very good," Luke sneered, in a sardonic appraising voice. "You know how to fight. Let us resume our 'brawl'." _

_By now, several kids had stopped what they were doing, and crowded around the area, raucously shouting and cheering on both of them. They were very divided in who they were rooting for. _

_"Courtesy to who we are, of course," The thug briskly thought before he whirled around to apprehend Luke once more. "Having trouble?" The thug quipped. "You're finished here!" The thug threw another punch at Luke, but was losing his posture, and the punch turned out to be a wild miss.  
_

_Luke was able to grab the thug's hand, and grasped it tightly, not letting go, as he began to twist it around, resulting in an agonizing state of pain for the thug, half-crazing the thug. As the arm got more and more twisted, the thug became more frantic, desperately trying to pry Luke off. _

_Luke merely tightened his grip, and placidly quipped, "Come on, Larry! Can you not take the pain?" _

_An infuriated Larry broke free, face red as a beet, and caressed his damaged arm for a moment, not daring to look Luke in the eyes, not wanting him to see Larry's pain. _

_Luke attempted another swing at Larry, but was stopped by a shrill scream, "What are you boys doing?!" The two boys both looked up to see a lunch aid heading towards them, her steps uneven due to the fact that one of her legs was once almost broken. _

_Their fight currently paused, the two boys took a moment to glance at each other. Larry's furious, wide eyes met Luke's cold, calculating ones. And then the moment was over. _

_"I can't believe this!" The lunch aid was shrieking. "You boys really do want to get suspended, don't you? Well, you are both going up to the principal's office!" _

_Pulling out papers out of the bag she clutched to herself as if it were her life, she asked for their names, Luke first. _

_"What's your name, boy?" She demanded impatiently, adding, "No fooling around!" _

_Luke, being a good school boy, dutifully went along with her, lucidly saying his name, "Luke", with no signs of reluctance shown. _

_The lunch aid then turned to Larry, and viciously demanded, "And what's your name, boy who started the fight?" _

_"So she saw some of the fight," Larry lackadaisically thought. "As if I could care less." _

_"Well?" She angrily scowled. "Give me your name." Her scowl grew more fierce, but Larry didn't feel intimidated in the least. Instead of cringing in fear, which she wanted him to do, he would defy her. _

_He opened his mouth to speak, giving the lady the hint that he would reveal his name, but instead, he ran. He ran as fast as he could, dodging various obstacles that stood in his way, occasionally having to push someone out of his way. _

_He dove out of the dreaded school yard and out onto the streets, cherishing his freedom for a moment, not even bothering to glance back. "Huh, I am never going back to school again. But I do have one stop to make," Larry thought to himself, his feet already in the diection of the liquor store._

* * *

_"Hopefully mom and dad are home," Larry dully thought to himself as he knocked on the door. His parents used to bring in good money, before the damned bombs wrecked New York and the rest of the country. _

_Now, his parents did not have good jobs, and were constantly scrounging around for jobs, never making enough money. One would think that this would motivate Larry to do well in school to get a good job, but Larry didn't care anymore. What was the point? Try, try, try. He didn't have the slightest notion of what he would try to do or become. _

_As Larry vaguely knocked on the door, he attention was drawn to it when he found that the door crashed onto the floor, free of it's rusted hinges. But Larry knew, or at least thought he knew, that their door wouldn't just fall to a couple of firm knocks. There had to be a source that caused this. _

_As Larry rushed into to his unspacious house, his mouth poised to scream, "Mom!", he faintly heard a monotonous and dull groan, undoubtedly a groan of severe pain. _

_Unsure of what he would apprehend, Larry rushed into his parents' room, and was horrified by what he saw. _

_...Larry couldn't move. _

_He just couldn't move. _

_To tell the truth, that was an embellishment. He could perform one action: keel over and remain on the floor, dying of his own agonizing pain that he felt after gazing upon the horrific and forbidden site. _

_It was actually tempting. At least Larry could die alongside his parents, because there really was no point for him to stay alive anymore. _

_It was true. Larry had correctly depicted the groan of pain before he even entered the room. _

_His parents' bodies, torn to pieces. _

_Blood was strewn everywhere, no place in the room being sanitarily acceptable. Larry forlornly gazed over to the drawer where his parents put all their money...and found it gone. _

_Larry slumped down in defeat. No money...no parents...no life..._

_But he couldn't die. He had to go on, and on! He still had friends, and despite the agony he was feeling, he knew that there were still good things in life that he could have. He couldn't just give up. _

_He needed money, and didn't care how he earned it. _

_But he refused to ever slaughter any human being, classifying this grisly action as being inhumane, and he couldn't stand to ever see the traumatizing sight ever again. _

_...But he needed the money..._

_And that was why he did it. He needed the money. He needed to survive. He let go of all of his friends, including his best friend, Gregor. He cut off all contact with them, making it seem as if he had disappeared off the face of earth. _

_It was a matter of life or death. _

_It was either to survive...or be killed. _

"I'm telling you, Gregor...I just wanted the money," Larry whispered to Gregor, tears trickling down his face. "I didn't lay a finger on them. I-I didn't..." Larry couldn't go on anymore, sobs taking over his voice.

Gregor's face remained unmoved, and he could only stare blankly at the...thing...on the floor. He didn't care how harsh Larry's circumstances were. All he could coherently think about was the fact that Larry did not stop the murder from taking place.

"Oh, no...," Gregor mournfully whispered. "Not you...you were my best friend..."

Larry stood up, despite the agonizing pain he was feeling. His heart was throbbing with dreariness, and he could barely stand. Despite this, Larry attempted a smile, and offered a worn, haggard hand to Gregor.

Reminiscing his sisters' deaths, a shot of pain blinded Gregor into an oblivion. He could only stand there, his eyes stinging, and his heart throbbing with desolate misery.

Gregor didn't care what Larry said. Even if he could somehow personify his regret, Gregor would not spare Larry. It was his own fault that he was in this situation. Hell, Gregor had seen people who were in worse situations, despite the fact that they had taken life so much seriously than Larry.

Namely, himself.

Feeling no sympathy towards Larry, Gregor felt apathetic towards him. He wanted Larry to just...go. To just leave, to free Gregor from the astounding pain he was suffering from right now. He wanted Larry to stop inflicting pain upon him, for Larry to have actually tried to defend his sister's from the rest of his gang's behemoth-like wrath.

He hated Larry. He hated the hand that Larry was sticking out towards him. He hated everyone that his memory would let him recollect, every damned homeless person he'd ever seen.

He hated life.

Life was just so unfair, packed with bastards who inflicted all sorts of macabre types of anguish upon people. "New York, huh? The best place to be in?" Gregor thought with a harsh chuckle. How ironic, that the best place to be in, was now allegedly the worst place to be in. How ironic, that New York had once been a place to seek out dreams.

"Dreams of being a thug, maybe," Gregor sardonically muttered to himself, totally and entirely disregarding Larry. He didn't care about Larry, who was beginning to feel demoralized and intimidated at Gregor's intimate silence.

"Maybe I should..." Larry began to think, sweat trickling down his face, but faltered when he saw Gregor finally look in his way. "Finally!" He excitedly thought, and stuck his hand out even further, oblivious to the pain that struck him when he did so.

But Gregor's wasn't looking at Larry the way that he wanted to be looked at. In fact, Gregor was...defiantly _glowering _at him. Slowly, Larry stepped away, the cool, misty night beginning to shield and hide him from Gregor's sight.

However, Gregor's echolocation abilities could not be rivaled.

"What's wrong, Larry?" Gregor harshly sneered, obtrusively slinking his hand towards Larry. "Why are you stepping away?" Correctly anticipating no answer from a terrified Larry, Gregor went on. "Could it be...that you know I won't forgive you?"

The dynamic words caught Larry by surprise, and he immediately cowered back, cringing from the virtual slap in the face he had just received. "Based on what Gregor did to those thugs, I have a lot more to worry about then a slap," Larry thought, and instantaneously marvelled over his ability to think so well through his fogged terror.

Gregor caught several glimpses of guns, all engorged throughout the area, their position suggesting some sort of super natural cause, making all the guns strewn in a symmetrical pattern. And Gregor caught a glimpse of the knife Larry dropped, as well as the sword that he had broken. He had several weapons to put Larry at his mercy (not that he already wasn't) and to eventually dispose of Larry.

But he didn't need any of them.

He had weapons already: his bare arms.

"Larry." Gregor said quietly, replying to all of Larry's attempts to make peace. "I'm sorry...but I can't forgive you for what has transpired here today. Larry...I...I have to...,"

"Kill me?" Larry finished for Gregor, not looking the least bit horrified anymore. "Like I thought...Gregor, I'm ready for this. My life has been terrible for the last three years. Just kill me!" Larry wildly gesticulated, throwing himself to the ground.

"You've always been a good friend, Larry. I'll never forget you." Gregor spoke impassively. Overhead, a siren sounded, notifying people that it was 12 A.M.

Midnight.

Larry's time had come! Roaring in rage, Gregor exerted all the rage he had, fueled by the morbid image of his sisters' remains. Exploiting no weakness, Gregor became oblivious to the world, only seeing a flashing red color. He was oblivioius to Larry's last words: "Mom, dad, here I come...!"

Breaking out of his trance-like stupor, Gregor was able to coherently and freely control his body again, stealing a dejected last glance at his friend Larry. Though Gregor had not been in control of himself while he committed the ghoulish deed, Gregor easily recognized the brutal moves he used to finish off Larry. A series of expertly thrown punches, kicks, half-nelsons, and the devastation of bones.

"Damn, I should have gone easier on him," Gregor groaned in aggravation, but other then this, he had no regrets for what he'd done.

While Gregor himself was musing about how brutally he'd demolished Larry, his rager side was marvelling over the deed, with proper reason. Anyone into fighting would have been amazing at Gregor's discharge of all the deadly and expertly thrown moves.

There were only two people Gregor knew who could've done much more, and not be impressed. One was undoubtedly himself.

The other...

...was lurking in the shadows, eyeing the spectacle of a fight that had just taken place.

The other was ready to call Gregor, to bring him back to where he truly belonged.

Gregor heard strange footsteps, claws scraping the ground as the foot steps impeded upon Gregor's hearing. He promptly threw himself around, the rager senses already clicking in...

...And immediately felt them dying down, without his supervision or command. With good reason.

"It-it can't be...!" Gregor choked out, his legs failing him, causing him to drop to the ground.

"Hello, boy." It was. It was him. The same snide voice, accompanied by the harsh groan and the perfectly timed chuckle.

And Ripred stepped out from the shadows.

**Don't expect an update anytime soon. But I promise, I WILL UPDATE! **


	4. They took her

**Thank you for the reviews, people! They seriously motivate me! But, the same people keep reviewing...can't anybody else review? That's enough from me. Enjoy the chapter!**

**CHAPTER 3: "THEY TOOK HER."**

* * *

"I-it can't be," Gregor incredulously stammered, staggering back in awe as he gazed at Ripred, eyes widening in shock.

"It _can_ be," Ripred smirked, sardonically putting emphasis on "can", evidently making fun of Gregor.

"Who cares?" Gregor thought. "Why is Ripred here? What does he need? What does he want?"

Instinctively, Gregor wondered about Luxa, thinking that Ripred had just come to pay him a little visit, updating him on information on how the Underland had been in his absence. But even before he thought of this, he knew it was wrong. Shaking his head at the absurdity of the idea, Gregor demanded, "Ripred? What do you want?"

Startling Gregor, Ripred began to roughly chuckle, doubling over in the hilarity of the situation to him. When he finally stopped, running a paw over his bleary eyes, he reproachfully commented, "Well, you're a lot more blunt than before."

"I guess losing my family killed my habit of beating around the bush." Gregor solemnly replied, his eyes hardening at the accidental reminisce of the horrible memories.

Instantly regretting the comment, he eyed Ripred, anticipating the rat's horrific reaction. "What?!" The rat exclaimed, mouth wide open in horror. "Your family? Your family? Where's Lizzie? Where is everyone?" The rat circled the area a few times, as if trying to convince himself that Gregor's family was somewhere close to them, watching them.

"Watching us, yes. But not close to us." Gregor sorrowfully thought, and patiently answered, "Ripred. What I said had a clear meaning."

The rat's brows furrowed in intense thought, and his eyes were narrowed in confusion. "But you can't possibly mean..." He paused, already knowing what the answer would be.

"They're dead, Ripred." Gregor expressionlessly whispered, his voice disguising no emotion. "They're dead." And betraying Gregor's feelings when he said the words, Gregor fell to the floor, his body wracked by sobs that even brought misery to Ripred's heart.

No matter how hard Gregor tried, he could never rid himself of the memory of when he found his parent's bodies, of how he reacted. He always wanted to forget, to move on with life, to make Lizzie and Boots happy, albeit they could never be as content as they were when their loving parents were alive.

He tried not to dwell back on those memories, especially in front of them, because he knew conjuring up those memories in front of them would make him cry, and the very last thing he wanted to do was cause them to worry. It was practically a phenomena when he cried, and his sisters both knew enough that seeing Gregor cry was a sure sign that a calamity would befall upon them. Courtesy to the environment they were in, of course.

Alas, now they were dead, and Gregor was free to mourn about them openly, free to let all his memories out from the dark corner of his mind he'd banished them to and let them haunt him. At least he wouldn't be fighting constant battles with himself, trying to keep the memories unjustly locked up. Now, the only one who'd witness his tears and care would be Ripred, who suffered hell a thousand times worse than Gregor could even dream of. Hell, the rat had tried to kill himself (but failed)!

Gregor couldn't even lie happily, recalling his good memories, without pessimistic thoughts taking over, and bringing bad memories into his head. He wasn't going to try to kill himself, but wished that he could've undone all the actions that had occured in New York, allowing this drastic change to have not occured.

But he knew wishing was pointless, because all it did was bring melancholy misery upon himself, involuntarily forcing him to desire things that were out of his grasp.

A sudden memory began to push all the others away, and Gregor stood rigidly in place, oblivious to everything around him, including the concerned Ripred trying to pry into his thoughts with his gifted sense of smell...

_A younger Gregor, a few years ago, cannot go to sleep..._

_"Augh," Gregor groaned, rubbing his eyes roughly in exasperation. He'd been trying to go to sleep for hours, but had desperately failed, his memories of the Underland not allowing him to rest in peace. _

_"Ah, might as well get something to eat," Gregor sighed, getting up from his compact bed. Now beginning to grow, Gregor stretched his arms lazily and hit the walls with his outstretched hands, the sudden pain causing Gregor to stifle a shriek. _

_"Ahhh..." He groaned angrily, donning himself faded jeans and a black sweatshirt. He ventured down his hallway, knowing that he would have to pass his parents' room to get to their diminutive kitchen. _

_His parents were constantly in turmoil, consequently resulting in their rising stress. They didn't get much sleep and awoke at the slightest noise, yet they had the energy to worry about Gregor, Lizzie, and Boots' sleep. They begrudgingly did not try to stop their children from thinking about the Underland, as they knew their power was not effective enough to prevail. However, Gregor knew that if they caught Gregor up this late at nght, they'd realize that he'd been berating himself about the Underland, and they would become even more firm in their resolution to move to Virginia. _

_While he was considering a way to stalk indiscernibly past his parents' room, his thoughts were halted by a stifled agonizing moan of pain. _

_Despite the fact that he was so far away from the living room, and despite the fact that he was barely awake, in a slight stupor, the moan was discernible enough for Gregor to distinguish it as his mother's cry. _

_Abruptly feeling panicked and confined, Gregor began to stalk down his hallway, already knowing before he got to his parents' room that they weren't there. Despite this unwanted knowledge, Gregor could not resist the urge to look into the room...though he instantly wished he didn't as soon as he did. _

_Blood. It was splattered across the room, the dark crimson color causing Gregor to boil in rage at his parents' most unjust treatment, his hardened face swirling to a color similar to the blood's infamous color. _

_Snapping out of his brief reverie, he resumed his trekk down the hallway, through the kitchen, and paused at the living room doorway. Intuitively using his echolocation for a brief moment, he threw himself to the floor, landing on all fours as he consumed into his mind what he just saw. _

_His parents were gagged, their hair wild and their skin haggard. Blood was clotted in dots along their mouths, and their clothing was ripped, providing a convenient way for Gregor to rage, his senses heightening fueled by what he was seeing. _

_Several thin, gaunt thugs, all donned in hoods, had inconspicious sneers on their scarred faces, all holding guns and ridiculously dangling cigarettes from their mouths. _

_"I want the money." One man broader than the rest snarled viciously, gnashing his teeth in frustration. Awaiting their reply, he observed their gags. With a low roar of fury, he tore off both of their gags, hurling them with all his might at the adjacent wall. _

_"W-we don't have $100,000!" His father choked out, his voice barely audible. "Please! Don't harm us!" _

_"Don't have it? Well, I guess we'll take whatever you do have." The thug regretfully eyed the fatigued furniture of the room. "Oh, and, we can't have you snitching to the police. So I guess we'll have to kill you." The man cocked his gun. _

_Gregor's dad paled, sweat pouring down his face, while his mother wildly thrashed about, her eyes darting abritrarily across the room. As her eyes flickered across the doorway, she saw Gregor. _

_In a reverie at the moment, Gregor knew there was no possible way to get his body moving in time to save his parents. His mother's eyes filled with tears, the haggard, uncultivated look morphing into a loving look, a kind of love that only a mother could deliver to her son. _

_"Good-bye," She mouthed to him with all her heart, distressingly forcing herself to accept that this was the last word she would ever utter (or mouth) to him. She would never see her son, or her daughters again. _

_"Die!" The patronizing, lofty man boomed. And he pulled the trigger, the nuzzle of the gun pressed to the nose of Gregor's dad. _

_He fell over, blood gushing out of an immense fissure in his head. _

_Undoubtedly, he was dead. _

_The boom of the gun did not just trigger an explosion. It caused the sullen man to grimace at the deafening noise, but it also triggered Gregor's heart to beat freely again. It triggered his will. _

_Unobtrusively to the man who'd performed the ghastly "feat", Gregor leaped out of the covering shadows just as he was aiming the gun with deadly accuracy at his mother, and slammed into him, forcing a grunt out of him, the bullet meant for her head hitting her arm. Standing up, throbbing with unequated rage, Gregor fiercely scowled at the man as he scrambled to pick up the gun, but realized that it was under Gregor's colassal foot. _

_Gregor was most certainly amp to defend. _

_As he bent over to pick up the gun, Gregor became conscious of the all but obvious fact that the others were all aiming their guns at him-inconspicious to anyone but him. _

_Gregor, with terrifying speed, spilled to the ground, taking the gun with him, and after aiming the gun at the man, pulled the trigger, resulting in a loud BANG!_

_The man fell to the floor. He didn't move. _

_With surprising gracefulness, Gregor ducked and swerved out of the way of the incoming bullets, the misfires not a result of abortive aim but a result of Gregor's alertness. _

_The thugs fell to the ground one by one, blood spilling on the soiled carpet spread across the room. A grim, crooked smile tinted with maliciousness spread across Gregor's face, filled with satisfaction. _

_He heard the mirthless laugh before he could apprehend the foe. "Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!" A heavily tatooed man shrieked in laughter at what he found so funny, hips undulating at the hilarity of the situation. Whatever that was to him. _

_Gregor had the choice. He could let his gaze flicker to his mom, begrudgingly acknowledging the fact that he would get shot. Or, he could overlook his mom and attempt some heroic endeavor to get the gun Gregor knew the thug had in his hand away from the thug. _

_Option one won out by a landslide. _

_Opting for option one only gave his one valuable moment of solace with his mom, but a moment was enough. _

_Exchanging his cruel look of malice with a look of love, Gregor looked at his mother for what was to be the last time, and tears fell out of his eyes, his now bleary eyes barely able to register the fact that his mother was silently crying. And even though she was about to be killed, and even though Gregor had a better chance of surviving a point-blank range shot than she had of surviving a wild shot, Gregor knew with all his heart that she was still pertubing about what was to become of Gregor, albeit her son was a rager. _

_Gregor could not hold back the desolate pain anymore. Awaiting the painstaking pain to come from the single bullet that would penetrate his body, Gregor cried in distress, "Mom! I love you!" _

_His mother managed, no, scratch that-forced-a brief smile that radiated with love and happiness, but so sad was she, so poignant was she that words failed her. _

_And the bullet came, running it's way easily through Gregor's rough, uneven skin coated with scars, through his veins, into his blood vessels, through his bones bloated with marrow, and out his skin again, Gregor crashing to the ground through his mother's horrified shrieks. _

_"That's enough, you old hag." The man roughly growled, shoving the gun in her face. _

_She fell over in a crumpled heap a moment later. _

_Shaking his head, having scrutinized the picturesque scene of love between mother and son, knowing no love of his own, the man malevolently bared in teeth in a feeble attempt at a grin. "I can tear up these bodies, sell the organs and make a bundle of money!" The man excitedly gushed to himself. "I'll come back for the boy later. Wait, no...I pierced some organs...I can't sell him. Screw him. The mother and father...and all my 'friends' with he so thoughtfully shot in the head." _

_Shaking his head in wonder, he ventured on, "I should actually THANK the boy for this! He only ruined their brains, and who needs new brains?" Laughing at the terrible endeavor of a joke, he muttered, "I made NO mistakes today. I'll be RICH!" And he resumed the repugnant sin of handling the bodies, carrying Gregor's mother and father's bodies with ease. _

_Unfortunately (or should it be considered fortunate?), the thug had made a dire oversight: he'd left a rager alive. _

_Gregor gritted his teeth, confining the pain within his shoulder. Inconspiciously latching onto the nearest gun he saw, Gregor waited. He wanted to surprise this bastard, make the bastard cry when he was at the door, ready to escape into freedom (a hellish freedom). _

_As he tolerantly lingered where he was, Gregor reflected on all that he had left. His thoughts instantly jumped to Lizzie and Boots, and Gregor couldn't help but sport a wry grin. "Can't believe those two angels didn't wake up in the midst of this given all the noises made." It was the only positive thought he'd had all day. Pity that it was spoiled when he thought, "It's better that they didn't. Oh, the bastard's at the door." _

_Sure enough, the man was gleeful, grinning in triumph, a grin brimming with anticipation of further evil deeds at a higher level. Slinging the bodies impertinently over his back, he tossed his head back, mouth wide open, his vocal cords ready to let off a mighty croon of victory-_

_-And fell over, his head nearly blown off at the most certainly petrifying impeccable, immaculate aim of Gregor's gun hand. What came out of his mouth was not a shout of victory but a bloodcurdling caw of pain and defeat as the man toppled over, degrading to his normally proud stature. _

_"Heh." Gregor snickered, feeling bliss at the implementation and execution of his shot. "Whatever happened to your dreams of selling my parents' organs?" _

_Standing up straight, Gregor cracked his knuckles and flexes his arms, impulsively jerking back when the pain of his shoulder pulsated. Gregor feebly attempted shake off the pain but failed, though he noticed that the immeasureable agony-no, nothing could describe it-nearly caused him to topple over, yet after blinking a few times, the pain began to suffice. _

_Intruding the wound with unforsaken circumspection, Gregor paid no heed to his knowledge screaming at him-no, begging for him-to not touch the wound, and promptly wedged his hand into his shoulder, pulling it out with the bullet securely clenched in his hand. _

_Gregor did not comprehend why the man had thought that an organ somehow magically appeared in his shoulder, but Gregor knew that an organ in his shoulder was not the correct explanation for his bulky, cumbersome shape of his body. Shaking his head at the absurdity of the ludicrous idea, Gregor had the gall to laugh, albeit the terrible night. _

_He raised his eyes to distastefully and hatefully gaze upon the man's body, positioned near the door. When he looked, he really wished that he didn't. _

_Lizzie and Boots were standing by the door, clinging to each other._

* * *

"...Boy?" Ripred hesitantly prodded Gregor. "A-are you alright?"

Gregor's face contorted in rage, and he quickly snapped in reply, "You should know that losing your family DOES NOT make you feel alright!" With the words, Gregor impulsively cringed, dreading the swift and brutal reaction that he triggered from Ripred.

But Ripred just stood in place, without moving a muscle. A tiny speck of what appeared to be a drop of water appeared at Ripred's eye, and Gregor was awestruck. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be. Was that the hint of a tear in Ripred's eye? No...it couldn't be true!

Had Gregor hit the essential spot of Ripred's heart this hard? Had he hurt Ripred this much?

"I'm sorry, Ripred." Gregor muttered in a failed excuse for an apology. "That was stupid."

Ripred regained his regal posture, and snarled back, "Yes, indeed it was. I'm trying to help you here, boy! Who else do you know besides that kid you just killed who lost their entire family? I'm not some stupid psychiatrist, I can HELP you. I've experienced what YOU have."

"I KNOW that, Ripred, I'm just..." Gregor began miserably, his words in vain.

"You're just confused. You don't know what to do." Ripred gently finished for Gregor. "It's okay. I've been there. But you're going to have to forgive and forget."

"Forgive who?" Gregor erupted abruptly. "Forget what?"

"You know what I'm getting at, boy." Ripred patiently replied, a placid response to Gregor's superfluous anger.

"I beg your pardon?" Gregor angrily demanded, his anger expanding horrendously. "You are asking me to forgive those who killed my family? FORGET MY FAMILY?"

"No, I'm not!" Ripred growled viciously, exasperated to the point of having on patience with Gregor. "I want you to forgive yourself for not being there! Because believe it or not, most of the rage is coming from that helpless feeling, the feeling that you could've been there but you weren't! And I don't want you to forget your family. I want you to forget their deaths, and burn their memories into your heart so that you never forget them!"

Needless to say, Gregor took what Ripred said to the heart, realizing that the rat was right. It could work...just maybe, it could. But it was too painful to even try to do it right now.

For a few moments, Gregor stared out at the rugged, razed street, wishing with all his might if only he could obliterate all the villainous figures in New York. It would spare so many innocent people from suffering and demolition. He didn't want anyone's life to be bulldozed into pieces the way Larry's and Ripred's lives had been.

The way his own life had been.

Sighing, Gregor slumped to the floor and asked himself in desperation and misery, "Why should I live in this hell? Why?" Scolding himself, Gregor put that option at the back of his mind, realizing that it would do no good to the world. It would d Ripred no good...it would do Vikus no good...it would do Luxa no good...

Somehow, this gave Gregor the strength to stand up. Sighing exhuberantly, he stood up exerting excessive force, knowing with all his heart that he would never resolve to kill himself.

"You okay there, boy?" Ripred softly implored.

Gregor hardened his forlorn gaze and looked away, his response being a hollow shrug that conveyed no emotion, yet Ripred perceived it as a "It's all good."

"Ripred?" Gregor interjected upon Ripred's train of thought. "Why are you here?"

Suddenly, Ripred's calm demeanor morphed into something else, coating Ripred in suspicion and fear. "You're the only one who can help me." Ripred urgently whispered, the startling change seeming ostensibly inconceivable to Gregor. "You being a rager and all."

"Help you with what?" Gregor loftily demanded, somnolent with the drama. "I'll help you, just tell me what you need."

"It isn't simple, boy." Ripred wearily snapped back in retort. "Give me...just give me some time." A moment later, he began to shake and breathe heavily, something he hadn't done since the initial confrontation. No, it was something Gregor had never seen Ripred do.

"Live and learn." Gregor dully thought, attempting to amuse himself, failing utterly. Quite to the contrary, Gregor bemused himself, despondently evaluating how much he had learned today. They were cloaked in dark by now, the grim, eerie moonlight not doing much but portraying the image of a dim light bulb.

"What a perfect stage for all this to be thrown at me." Gregor quipped to himself, not daring to say anything out loud lest he irritate Ripred, and stood there, remaining where he was without budging the slightest inch, waiting for Ripred to snap out of his puzzling reverie.

And Ripred did just that, a chronological and exact moment later, a moment in which Gregor could stand where he was and study Ripred, a pictorial view providing for him.

It was then that Gregor noticed how gaunt Ripred was, how many more scars were carved on his craggy fur, how long his teeth were, and the faint moans of the rat's trembling stomach, a sure sign that the rat hadn't had a good meal in quite some time.

"Figures." Gregor thought to himself before Ripred spoke up.

"Glad you waited, boy." Ripred uneasily smirked, a tint of sarcasm amidst his growl. Or was that just the way his voice naturally came out? Sure, the rat hadn't been eating well, but was this what his voice was reduced to?

"Well...before I begin, I just want you to know that the LAST THING I want you to do is freeze up on me and fall over, okay?" Ripred hastily attempted to weasel this mere promise out of Gregor before he began.

"You mean what you just did?" Gregor smirked, a little bit too coldly for Ripred to bear without the delivery of a debasing, demeaning insult.

But Ripred's words did not correspond with Gregor's anticipated guess. "Show me some respect, boy, and shut up!" He growled furiously, his stomach replying with an even louder howl.

This involuntary action further enforced to Gregor that the wise thing to do was what Ripred said, shut up. It was a somber reminder of the situation Ripred was constantly in and confined to.

But despite his resolvation to shut up, despite Gregor's respect for Ripred's orders, he could not conform Ripred's previous orders.

And Ripred delivered the fateful words that would forever twist Gregor's future, providing him with dainty little puzzles for him to work his way out of, "...They...they have her, boy...they have her...!"

Gregor didn't even bother to attempt to depict in a different way then he already did of what Ripred was saying, didn't even bother to try and find some consolation out of the words and make them sound positive.

He didn't even bother to attempt to follow Ripred's orders, his own depiction of the words horrfiying to him.

He freezed up and fell over.

And from Ripred's reaction, a sad shake of his head, Gregor knew that his depiction was right.

They had Luxa.

**Well, I guess the long time no updating thing wasn't true. Please review! Just do this for me! To the people who already review, I adore you. To those who don't review, can you please do this little thing for me, and make me happy? 20 seconds out of your life to tell me how this story was! I put so much effort into this... and there are emo people like Warlorofdage who say that people like me have no life!**


	5. Luke

**Thank you for the good reviews, people...but it's still the same people, just a few new people...if you find something BAD about my story, then put it in a review and just say so! It's really not that hard to take SECONDS out of your life and do this for me...I mean, sure, you might find other stories better than mine, but just say so! I mean, Teenaged Author's story has 5 chapters, same as me, and has more than twice as many reviews as me! C'mon! That's seriously unnerving! Please! I'm begging you! Just review! **

**CHAPTER 4: LUKE**

So multifarious, so intricately woven were Gregor's jumbled emotions, that he could not manage any articulate words, barely squeaking out, "Ah...!"

Ripred grimly shook his head, confirming the dreadful news, and spoke gravely, "Well, you know who they took."

Gregor forced a slight nod and mouthed, "Luxa."

"Yes." Ripred forced himself to approve of the brief reply, and then responded, "I'm guessing that you'd like the full story?"

Gathering all the energy he had, Gregor made a remarkable comeback from when he ostensibly had impaired vocal cords, and snarled in retort, "That's what I've been wanting to know the whole time!"

Wisely choosing to avoid the snide remark, Ripred berated Gregor, "And you STILL haven't even asked who "they" are!"

"Well, who are "they"? Gregor promptly demanded, resisting the urge to scream and shout.

"...Things that are nothing like you've ever seen before..." Ripred mournfully whispered. "The Undead Legion Army."

"The what?" Gregor incredulously laughed, not comprehending the seemingly ridiculous words.

"The Undead Legion Army!" Ripred harshly snarled, fed up with Gregor's impracticality. "They are the army of death!"

"...I don't understand..." Gregor stammered, his words visibly true. Death? It added up to nothing but gibberish to him. "Death? What do you mean?"

As Ripred opened his mouth to hiss out a contorted reply, Gregor stubbbornly opposed him, "And don't tell me that I ask too many questions and then snarl out an answer, because I wasn't expecting any of this! Don't just give me some garbage and expect me to digest it without questions! Hell, I don't even understand what you mean by death! It was just an ordinary day for me, but my sisters died, I kill my old friend and now you come out of nowwhere and tell me Luxa got kidnapped. By death! I just don't get it!"

The impeccable silence that followed the raged outburst was lethal. Gregor stood his ground, heavily breathing, his face red, while Ripred stood across from him, stunned by the intimate attack.

After a moment, Ripred sorrowfully throatily whispered, "Sorry about that, boy. But things...things are hard all over."

"Yeah." Gregor affirmed, nodding his head. "Yeah. Just take a look at me."

And another lethal silence overtook the two of them, both of them staring at each other perceptively, not daring to speak but both understanding each other better then they had in the last four years.

Ripred took the wise intiative to corrupt the silence, and gravely continued his woeful tale, "Death was a mythic creature, a god of, well, death." Ripred frankly said. "It was allegedly just a myth, and apparently there was no personification of death. And we ignored the sudden deaths of several beings in the Underland, thinking that it was just a coincidence.

"We were wrong.

"Tragically wrong." Ripred sighed in apparent disbelief at his supposed stupidity.

"Go on." Gregor barely made out, already disgusted to a horrific point with this story, as it concerned itself with the fate of Luxa.

Letting out his redundant sigh, Ripred elaborated, "The beings of the Underland were now loosely united, no calamities of war going around. The rats, humans and bats are closely united, along with the nibblers. The spinners and stingers are decently with us. All the other beings in the Underland are neutral or loosely connected with us, none of them even dreaming to attack us. Except one." Ripred momentarily and dramatically paused, waiting for Gregor to guess the easiest possible answer.

Sure enough, Ripred turned out to be right, anyways. "The Cutters." Gregor snarled, the ghost of a furious scowl plastered onto his face.

"Yes, the Cutters." Ripred confirmed, apathetic to Gregor's visible disgust. "You may be thinking that it doesn't matter was the cutters will do to us, as we are with the other beings in the Underland. But let me ask you, do you know our position and their's numerically in terms of soldiers?" Ripred left the question dangling in the air for Gregor to catch and subsequently answer.

Gregor's face remained expressionless, ostensibly disregarding the essential question. Abruptly, Gregor's expression flickered and Gregor's eyes widened in shock and repulse. "No..." He breathed, taking in a gargantuan intake of air.

"Yes." Ripred nodded, knowingly confirming Gregor's unspoken answer. "The Cutter's number, in the millions, most likely exceed ours. Not to mention the fact that they have far more incentive then our fighters. They fight honorably to the death, ignoring pain, not caring if they die. Success is their only need.

"On the other hand, our fighters have incentive but as soon as they are hurt, they attempt to withdraw from the fight, except for our most brave fighters. But that's not the point. The point is, the Cutters are dangerous. And when they threatened to attack us, we were definitely up on our toes.

"I guess you could say that Death prolonged our defeat at the hands of the Cutters, but brought the time of our death sooner. Death, for whatever reason, sent his armies against us. They...they inflicted so many crushing, degrading defeats upon us with ease...!" Ripred choked out, mortification overtaking him as he was forced to acknowledge that what the armies of the alliance erected themselves into was his sole source of pride.

"What's so good about them?" Gregor asked, knowing that he stupid. It bemused him that he didn't care. He always wanted to act smart in front of Ripred to earn his respect. What was it that made him not care? Was it possible...that Gregor unknowingly considered himself to be at Ripred's aptitude?

"Boy, they're the heralds of death! Death...is all powerful!" Ripred screamed a snarl at Gregor.

"What's so good about them?!" Gregor stubbornly insisted, refusing to hear Ripred silently and deliberately backing down.

"They may not be invincible...far from it, actually. But they have the hardest armor, have intimidating skulls for heads and are surrounded in blue aura. And their weapons...their weapons cut through us as if we're paper." Ripred could not contain himself, in his bitter excitement at the sheer power of death's weapons.

"Can death be killed?" Gregor jerkily interjected.

Silence. Silence fell upon the two, and it seemed as if they were the only two beings that stalked the earth, an eerie silence totally dominating the noises of the city. Ripred could sense the turmoil the boy was in, but knew that if they kept pausing like this, they'd never reach their final destination.

"...Yes, he can...but only by an extreme power." Not liking the predilective look on Gregor's face, which alerted him that Gregor was having reckless thoughts, Ripred hastily persisted, "Which none of us have.

"The only way we've been considering killing death is launching a massive surprise attack on the entity, hoping that all our might would kill him. However, I reject that idea, because how the hell are we supposed to surprise death?"

Gregor impulsively screeched out the question, "Ripred, do you stand any chance against the army of death?"

Ripred responded in a lackadaisical shrug that conveyed no interest in answering the question, though Gregor correctly interpreted it as a "no", and Ripred impatiently growled, "What does my might have anything to do with this?"

"Everything." Gregor responded, undeterred by Ripred's refusal to answer the question.

Practically seething in rage, Ripred huffed almost haughtily, "I wouldn't know about that, boy. But I can tell you that I am the most able to go against death, in the entire Underland."

Silent for a moment, Gregor resolutely said sullenly, "Ripred? Just tell me that you don't stand a chance."

The burly rat pounded his hairy knuckles several times on the pavement, keeping Gregor waiting, inducing his anger. "Ripred!" Gregor yelled with a surly voice. "You're really not helping right now."

Ripred could not help but sighing in despair, and looked up at Gregor, his lustrous, petite eyes perfectly exposing the Underland's dire predicament. "Boy..." Ripred whispered in the dark of the night. "Without the help of the armies, I'dve been long dead."

Gregor was awestruck into impertinence. Ripred...defeated? "Ripred!" Gregor cried out insolently. "If you were defeated, what chance does the rest of regalian army have?"

Though Ripred promptly refused to answer the demeaning question, he did take into consideration what Gregor said. It was true. Ripred always went into the midst of fights, and struck focal points throughout the enemy lines. He could take on several of Death's minions at once, displacing them and striking fear throughout the ranks, and a great mass of the army would direct their powerful attacks on him, the bulk of their weapons attributing to their plain awestriking power.

With Ripred keeping them at bay, the rest of the human/gnawer/flier/nibbler and whatever other species it encompassed army launched a relentless offensive against Death's armies. They brought down some minions to their knees, yes.

But they never won.

Truth be told, as Ripred was reminscing, he could never fully grasp the situations in which he had succeeded in escaping with life and limb not yet burned to cinders. There had been some close calls, and some deep gashes that still remained all over his body.

And there was the time Death had arrived in the midst of incensed, enraged battles, heralding doom, fear, and utter destruction.

Now looking at the tall, muscular and scarred boy with ostensibly no heart, denying the fact that he hiding his feelings, Ripred felt compelled to ask Gregor what he'd wanted to ask.

"Boy." Ripred said, knowing that this moment alone with Gregor was a luxury, a bliss. "I'm the only known rager in the entire Underland. And at times, it's a bliss, but right now, it's a curse."

It only took Gregor a moment to realize what Ripred was getting at. His brain clicked, and although the virtually irresistible urge in Gregor to run past Ripred, and not stop running until he found Luxa, not caring that he didn't know where to go, was tugging at him, Gregor feebly put it down. Shrugging coyly, Gregor deftly accused Ripred, incriminating the rat, "And you still haven't explained everything to me! Where is death?"

Preparing to deliver a concise answer, Ripred carefully announced, "We don't know where they come from. Our scouts have never come back. I plan to defeat but not kill a Soul Harvester, and extract the vital information from it."

Though Gregor pointlessly wanted to argue, however flawed the plan was, Gregor couldn't come up with a coherent comeback, and merely spoke, "I'm not as competent as you. What difference can I make?"

"Gregor." This being one of the few times Ripred critically conceded Gregor by his name, Gregor felt obliged (and somewhat constrained) to listen to the best of his abilities. "I'd rather have another rager...than a whole army...to back me up.

"And I'd rather have a competent rager to back me up.

"Whether you realize it or not, boy, you're as competent, if not more, as me in terms of fighting. And the proximity of the year you've been down in the Underland, you've done more in days than generals, even Mareth, have done in months and years.

"You can act humble for all I care, Gregor. But like I said, you're as valuable as armies are. And when we need insticts to be relied on, you're more valuable than the entire army of our alliance."

The speech hung in the air, with several lasting results.

Gregor's jaws were as far away from each other as they could be, Gregor flabbergasted to a point of senselessness.

So rare was it that Lord Ripred of the Gnawers established praise, that there was practically a celebration when it happened.

And for Ripred to praise Gregor to this extensive level? Gregor barely managed to shake his head in wonder and disbelief, a pang of pride surging throughout him.

Ascertaining his improper "mistake" not until it was too late, Ripred hurriedly went on, "I need you to come with me, boy. There's really no point in me to go back without you."

"So you're that desperate for me to come aid you?" Gregor speculated without much intended enthusiasm. Without lingering a moment for Ripred to reply, Gregor returned, "I'm going with you.

"We'll save Luxa." It was not a speculation this time; it was a vow.

Unbeknownst to the two, an inconspicious passerby alerted the police of Larry's lifeless, mangled corpse, and the sirens of police vehicles became discernable to their insightful ears.

After Ripred cursed in rage (Gregor would not be goaded by any means to repeat what Ripred said), Gregor quipped one last time before desperation overtook him, "After I get some sleep."

Just as the police arrived at the brutal battlefield littered with undesireable corpses, the two took off into the shadows, avoiding alleged statuses as the perpetrators of the crime (not to mention repulsion at the sight of seeing a giant rat).

* * *

Sleep: a period of rest for the body and mind, during which volition and consciousness are in abeyance and bodily functions are partially suspended; also described as a behavioral state, with characteristic immobile posture and diminished but readily reversible sensitivity to external stimuli.

What the dictionary subconsciously denied the right to be internationally known was that sleep usually diminshed, or helped to diminish, one's internal fears.

It didn't work out for Gregor.

It never did.

He always felt tired. In the night, he was plagued by tremendous nightmares. In the daytime, he was _in_ a tremendous nightmare. Yesterday evening hadn't been a living nightmare. It was living deeper than the depths of hell, where flames were replaced by blood...blood of his family.

Gregor had lost all contact with his family in other states. Truth be given, he wasn't exactly confirmative if they were alive or not, and feeling some remorse, he really did not care. He hadn't seen them since the blasted bombing started, years ago. And he would never see them again. The regret that he was neglecting conjectured up the urge for him to trek all the way down to Virginia and wherever else they were and say good-bye.

Of course, he couldn't do that. He had a mission, a cause to live out his life for.

Luxa.

Namely, saving Luxa, but anytime the Underland was conjured in his mind, he just thought of his goal to be with Luxa.

But even this initiative to live, to be strong, could not defend Gregor from the clutches of his past memories. Lizzie and Boots dying...his parents' torn up bodies...his mother's last loving glance...and a day down in the Underland, during a pretty tame war compared to what was effectively being waged now, in the museum of Regalia...a kiss he'd shared with her...

Luxa.

The thought of being with her caused his mangled, nearly dissipated heart to bloom in happiness in full regalia, daring anyone and anything to lunge at it's happiness.

Sadly, it was a dare that his thoughts easily took, as if they were mocking his happiness. His cruel thoughts...

His cruel thoughts intruded upon his happiness, a warily alerted him that he was in a totally different world than Luxa. Totally different. Strange, it seemed to be to Gregor. Mankind could travel in space, could send rovers to other worlds, could demolish the accentation of the very landscapes that were vital to their survival. Gregor could commit himself to doing all of this if he went to school, and it wasn't an impossible desire.

Yet, though it was just a stone slab separating him from hurtling down a stone passageway and coming to her, Gregor couldn't do it. The only possible solution his mind could come up with was that his mother hadn't wanted him to go back down their.

But now he was going, not even caring that he was disobeying his sweet mother's last and most beloved wish, not even feeling a tinge of reluctance. It was all for her.

All for Luxa.

Gregor sighed exhuberantly and turned over to the heavily snoring Ripred who so courtesously threw himself on Lizzie and Boots' bed and slept there, common sense not telling him to retract his claws or something so that he didn't tear up the cloth. It didn't matter to Gregor's expense; he didn't have to worry about anybody sleeping their again. Not even him, because he planned on dying to save Luxa or staying down in the Underland.

But it tore up Gregor's heart to see the last fully intact thing Lizzie and Boots had ever owned torn up in such a way, and Gregor, planning to gently prod the rat awake as to not arouse his anger, roughly shook the rat, his patience worn to the thin. "Wake up!" Gregor's surly, abjected voice surprised even himself, and he promptly quit his unceremonious shaking of Ripred.

The rat woke up anyways, barely acknowledging the vigorous effort to wake him up, and yawned, "Got anything to eat around here, boy? Game's pretty scarce down in the underland." Ripred attempted to gesture down, but was interrupted by another yawn which rank of week old milk.

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Gregor shook his head at the ridiculous episode, trying to demolish the overpowering urge to laugh at the hilarity of the situation. Funny how he could even think to have even tried to laugh at such a bad time.

"Help yourself to the fridge. I take it that your tail will let you open the door, huh? I've got somewhere to go." And Gregor, curtly ending the reply, briskly dashed out of the room, practically smashing the door open.

A puzzled Ripred gazed lazily at the irrefutably indomitable boy running out the door, practically sprinting, and decided that he didn't care. Dragging himself to the kitchen, his tail enabled him to easily swing the door open.

Ignoring the sudden cold that quickly swept away any traces of sleepiness he had, he looked dreamily at the food that lay in store right in front of him.

Like he'd said, he didn't care.

* * *

Gregor stood, unmoved from the spot that he'd been in from the start of Larry's funeral.

He'd left his house in Ripred's care and strolled past the police's place, where he'd heard that there was to be a funeral-no, scratch that, a minor _procession-_held for Larry. Maybe that explained why it only took a night to plan the whole thing.

There weren't that many people there, for that matter. Barely anyone, actually. Just some how his close friends, and the family that cared enough to even come to see him one last time.

But even those people who came to attend the procession did not feel much pain at what Larry had suffered (was that a harsh chuckle Gregor just heard?), Gregor included.

Gregor couldn't speak for them, but Gregor knew he wasn't a heartless freak. He was just practically oblivious to other's pain when it was on such a minor level relative to his. Even for his family. If this had been his entire family's funeral, he would've been rooted to the floor, sobs wracking his entire body. But he wouldn'tve felt his family's full pain.

In fact, there was only one creature in the world that had participated and felt worse than Gregor's pain.

The gluttonous rat at his house probably having moved on to gnawing on his table.

All of the people there, Gregor included, were poorly dressed, looking like they'd come from poorly furnished, defunct houses like his.

Except for one boy.

Man, actually, would describe him. The boy looked to be about 18, and looked apt to defend himself. He stood rigidly, exerting some inertia to hold himself upright. His body was bundled with muscle, and he was actually handsome, with tints of hair he probably took years to grow rooted onto the base of his chin.

Yet, despite the muscle the boy sported, he had the utmost scholarly look, as if he was the athletic boy who tried even harder in school than he did in simple sports.

It took a mere half hour for the procession to conclude, a time Gregor was more than willing to wait for. All of the other guests had departed, some in tears, except for Gregor.

And except for the boy.

It was strange how the boy, certainly not a relative of Larry, stayed so long.

It was now or never. Time to go up to the boy.

Not anticipating the reaction he would be embraced with, Gregor nervously stalked up to the boy, and placed a firm hand on the boy's smooth shoulder. It was as muscular as the rest of his body, Gregor noted with mild interest.

The boy jerked around, a crazed look brimming in his eyes, but quickly calmed down when he saw Gregor, recognizing him from the procession. "Oh, it's you." The boy muttered. With an impassive voice, Gregor again noted with interest.

"Why are you here?" Gregor roughly blurted out before he could regain absolute control over himself, and reddened at the realization of his blunt mistake.

Eyeing Gregor with ostensibly disgustful eyes, the boy's eyes softened and he began to laugh. Eyeing Gregor coolly, he replied, "What a blunt question. Why I was here? I knew Larry three years ago. He used to be my best friend. But our friendship was tragically impaired when he began to despise school, cut it and deal drugs. There was a time when I even dared to hate him. But only recently, I learned that he lost his parents..." Luke paused, a low moan escaping his throat. "And I forced myself to come see him...because I've lost mine, too."

"Huh, that's when he stopped hanging around me, too!" Gregor exclaimed in genuine surprise, essentially taken aback that he had not known the boy. "Can you tell me your name? Mine is Gregor." Gregor asked almost tentatively, later mortified that it sounded more of a gruff demand.

The boy looked at Gregor boldly, and a bit angrily for a split second, as if infuriated that Gregor had dared asked him his name. The boy really didn't want anybody to know his name, because he planned to disappear from the public, and wanted no traces of his record to be anywhere. He wanted to shove Gregor out of his way and storm out of there.

He was even frantically going to pull the endeavor off...when he took another glances to ascertain Gregor.

This time, he didn't see a boy trying to pry into his past. He didn't even see a boy who wanted to be his friend.

He saw a boy with a mission, a boy who could be trusted...but most of all, a boy who would understand.

He could trust Gregor.

And he replied to Gregor, indistinguishably and undisputably, with such pride, one word that Gregor probably would've heard a mile away:

"Luke."

**And there you go! Luke is back in the story! Please review! **


	6. An unexpected wait

**Thank you for the 10 kind reviews I've gotten for the previous chapter. Thank you, all of you, for sticking with me even though it might seem like I won't update. Hopefully, you'll enjoy this chapter and flock me with reviews, **

**CHAPTER 5: AN UNEXPECTED WAIT**

Gregor stared in awe at this bulky boy who claimed to be called Luke.

"Luke?" Gregor literally echoed the name the boy had donned himself. "Didn't I know you? Yes...years ago..."

Luke put on a confused expression, followed by perplexed curiousity. "No, I do not seem to recall you...may I have your name?"

"Gregor." Came the clear reply.

And all of a sudden, Luke burst out, "Gregor? I knew someone in...middle school...called Gregor...and that boy," Luke empathetically paused here, resent building up in his voice as he gazed spitefully at Gregor, "was the one who beat me in the final match of the wrestling tournament." Luke paused, taking a deep breath, and ventured on, "He did not _beat _me. He _mortified, humiliated _me." And Luke abruptly turned his meandering gaze to Gregor.

"And I do believe that it was you."

Gregor gawked in disbelief at Luke. Was his grudge simply held because of a wrestling match that Gregor couldn't even recall?

Handsome face, good build...it didn't matter how much muscle Luke could build up on himself. Gregor didn't even considered the six pack that Luke probably had but that he couldn't see. Gregor couldn't imagine Luke wrestling as an amateur, much less then him advancing to the finals to attempt to defeat Gregor.

Luke seemed to contain more scholarly attributes to himself, especially with that patrician nose Luke sported and those cold, grey eyes. The tattered clothes that he adorned himself could not change the fact that Luke was more of a scholar than a fighter.

And suddenly, ever so abruptly, Gregor vaguely could evoke the ever diminishing memory...of him fighting in that particular wrestling tournament.

That stupid tournament. It hadn't meant anything to him. Nothing.

Advancing through the rounds, tossing people out of his way, driving into them with barely any of his might...even winning that measly trophy...hell, Boots accidently dropped it and it splintered into pieces! How could anyone get worked up over something as obsolete as that? It was no wonder that he didn't remember it! (Though he'd much rather remember that than remember his parents' death)

And it was then that Gregor realized that he was looking at it from the rager point of view, the accomplished and fierce fighter's point of view. He needed to look at it from the cosmic, vast point of view that encompassed the ordinary person's stubborn thoughts.

Looking at it like this, Gregor understood how infuriated Luke must have been when Gregor had deftly and swiftly interfered in Luke's shortterm dream. Anyways, Luke obviously exerted all the determination and effort he had in the preceding rounds to that. Luke was also in stark contrast to the run of the mill fighter, who wasn't an adept master at the sport.

He was obviously stronger than the rest, now that Gregor could more visibly remember it...

And something clicked in Gregor's mind.

"Fight me." Gregor urgently and involuntarily screeched at Luke. "Fight me."

"I...beg your pardon?" Luke hesitantly and confoundedly responded, staring in confusion at the proffered hand Gregor extended to him, a gesture of something Luke didn't know.

"Fight me!" Gregor even more desperately attempted to chide Luke. "Please! I need to see your skill! You can help me! You can help Ripred!"

"Help you with out?" Luke interjected insistently. "And who is Ripred?!"

"Just...,"Gregor sighed in exasperation, his sigh extravagant, it's exuberance meant to persaude Luke into helping him. "You can help!"

Gregor was blubbering like an idiot, and even though he was trying with all his might to, he couldn't stop. His jumbled mind couldn't even process the notion that he should actually explain to Luke what he meant.

It was going downhill from there. While Gregor was yakking his head off, speaking in no apparent discernable language, his mind was in turmoil. And Gregor couldn't even find the humor in Luke's surly expression, Luke beginning to get really annoyed. The kind look he'd sported quickly detoriated into an expression of sheer fury. Luke had this _get the hell out of my way or I'll flatten you _look, which was ironic since Gregor wasn't in his way.

Perfect. Just perfect.

Gregor wanted an ally, and he was more or less painting himself the hint of an enemy. With Luke glowering at him, and Gregor ranting, half-crazed with the Underland, it took Gregor a while to remember their initial encounter and why Gregor was even wasting his time here, instead of sprinting headlong into the Underland, running to wherever Luke was being held. He was itching for the running to be skipped just so that he could slay all those undead that didn't have the sense to stay dead.

"Excuse me!" Luke's sharp voice crescendoed, resulting in a multifarious, high pitched shriek that baraged Gregor out of his reverie. "Explain! Why do you wish to fight me? Who is Ripred, and what is the Underland?"

Glumly, Gregor lazily gazed at Luke, not knowing where he should reply with a definitive answer that explained everything, that explained who Gregor was and why he shouldn't get the hell out of Luke's way.

And it was right at that point, that a nearly inconspicious thought drove it's way into Gregor's mind, and his brain bloomed into brilliance. This was perfect! Why hadn't he thought about that before? If Luke was going to persist in finding the answers to these void statements Gregor threw at him...there was only one way for the information to be delivered to him.

"You want the information?" Gregor challenged Luke. "Fight me...and you'll get it!"

An astounded Luke quickly overcame the stunning advocation, and the ghost of a sneer played on his face. "A fight? A fight, you want? You most certainly will receive it!" And Luke, very much inclined to take the challenge, threw a wild punch that he thought he knew would trump Gregor.

Sadly, he was mistaken. Critisizing the flamboyuance of the punch with the slightest shake of his head, Gregor's cruel smirk infuriated Luke, and Gregor flicked his wrist on Luke's head, the action so quick that it seemed as if an omniscient force committed the action.

"Augh!" Luke screamed in pain, seething with rage at the plain mortification he'd received, his pride slandered. How could he have been so adeptly dealed with? Luke lunged forward once more, but Gregor took the anger in stride, forseeing Luke's rage. Gregor caught the blow and bludgeoned Luke's hand.

The pain took a split second to come, and in that minute, the look on Luke's face was irrefutably the most hilarious Gregor had ever caught a glimpse of. Gregor could have howled in laughter at Luke's sudden change in mood. "What happened?" Gregor taunted. "Is your arrogance done?"

And then the pain took over, and Luke retched over, clutching his hand as if it were his lifeline, his one desire in life. "Aaaahhh!" Luke howled in pain, and brought his face up just to face another swift kick delivered craftily and brutally by Gregor. Luke forced himself not to left himself be thrown on the ground, trying with all his might not to be humiliated again. Gritting his teeth, Luke scampered to his feet, only to desperately bat off two of Gregor's restrained blows.

The consumption of his energy being exceptionally high Luke, his reluctantly forced himself to convey to himself the damage Gregor had caused to him: bruised jaw (broken, maybe?), lots of blood, purple eye, lots of blood, bloody nose...and, mm-hm, no doubt about it: lots of blood.

Quickly taking the time to assess the damage he had dealt to Gregor, Luke found it awfully unnerving that he had dealt: no damage at all.

"Luke," Gregor growled impatiently. "Stop holding back. You have much more power to show to me." Not wanting to endure some of Luke's embellished boasting, he quickly added smugly, "Not that I wouldn't win anyhow."

The anger was triggered, the damage dealt. "You think this is funny?!" Luke viciously retorted. "YOUR ARROGANCE IS DONE!" Luke's tomato red face alerted Gregor that he had exploited Luke's weakness, and if this fight rose to become more of a hinderence than it already was, Gregor was more than ready.

Suddenly, Luke's face regained far more vividness, and he rushed at Gregor, his arms flailing, his voice defeaning. "You will suffer!" He was yelling. Well, it was more of a babble, since Gregor had no intention of listening to Luke, and Luke more or less was talking to himself.

With surprising speed, Luke assaulted Gregor, and he finally found this fight more than a nuiscance that he wished he'd never started. Luke was able to soundly connect his fist with Gregor's jaw, who in return sent the next of Luke's blows rebounding into Luke's face. Gregor slammed Luke right into a square of light, and the sudden burst of light blinded Luke for a valuable second.

Gregor took the one second to slam himself into Luke once more, sending the latter sliding across the floor, blindly groping for alleged furniture that would stop his slide. Fortunately for Gregor, there were none.

"You managed to trade one blow with me," Gregor impartially remarked, the minor pain from the punch he'd received subsiding. "But is that it?"

Luke's senses were screaming profane remarks at him for having allowed himself to skid across the floor. Breathing heavily, he roared back in contempt, "It will soon be you who is skidding across the floor!"

This remark, full of bravado, discreetly cloaked Luke's trepidation enough that Gregor could barely dissentangle it from Luke's bravery. "I'd really like to see that." Gregor sneered, some of his concentration dispersing.

Without a moment's notice, Luke rushed at Gregor again, and this time, Gregor tasted pain at Luke's fist slamming into his face, leaving the slightest trickle of blood behind it.

Not pausing even for a microsecond, Luke let out a warrior's cry and flailed his fists at Gregor, connecting with Gregor's face three times. Taken aback at first, Gregor swiftly kicked Luke away and, wrenching his fist back, plowed it right into Luke's bloody face, blood spewing out of Luke's mouth. Delivering a powerful punch to Luke's stomach, Gregor instantly was assured of his victory.

Never for a moment had Luke resigned to defeat, however, and he forced himself back up, despite it requiring the simple effort he didn't have.

"You're pretty tough, huh?" Gregor attempted a compliment, though Luke did not take it as so because of the bitterness in it. "Trained by the best," He snarled back.

"And who would the best be?"

"Myself!" Luke retorted, tackling Gregor to the ground and swiping a gnarled fist on his stomach, knocking the air out of him.

"You think you're the best?" Gregor retorted back. "I have news for you: YOU'RE NOT!" Angered at the latter's overconfidence, Gregor kicked Luke off of him and baraged him with a series of flailed fists, each and everyone of them impacting a critical part of Luke's fighting stance.

"Ready to give up?" Gregor huffed furiously. It astounded him when Luke silently shook his head no...and it angered him to the brink of insanity.

A familiar feeling overcame Gregor, the same cool, calm feeling that took over him for a second before he raged. Gregor had almost always tried to fight it off, but now he didn't even try. He coolly acknowledged it, nodding his head...and then everything went red.

...

...

When Gregor finally regained his senses, he dazedly glanced around, and was alarmed to find a battered, bruised Luke on the floor, nearly unconscious. Blood dribbled out of his nose and mouth, and the intricate cuts on his body were connected, like a map of several rivers. It was a very fitting description, considering that all the blood coming out of the cuts made them look like rivers.

Gregor only knew two living beings who would still refuse to balk and back down in such an instance. One of those beings was him, the other Ripred.

But Gregor now had to add one more person to that list: Luke.

"My god..." Gregor breathed, horrified at what he'd done to Luke and even more horrfied by Luke's pride, intermingled with terrifying determination. Was Luke going to die? Was this Gregor's cue to rush out of the funeral center and seek refuge with Ripred?

No, Gregor firmly decided. He would take whatever ramifications came to him for his grisly deed. He turned, neglecting to even wipe the blood from his face.

"Wait!" It was Luke's voice, a croak riddled with pain and anxiety. Gregor turned back to stare in amazement at Luke, who at such an extent of pain could even dare to venture to gather his voice.

"What do you want?" Gregor bitterly uttered back. "Are you going to turn me into the authorities?"

Luke gave a short laugh. "Funny, I was thinking that you would do the same to me." Seeing Gregor's bemused face, Luke quickly went on, "For bothering you and fighting you. Anyways, even if you would, I would not run, as I deserve the punishment."

"We really do think alike," Gregor was marvelling at how in sync their thoughts were, and Luke nodded in affirmative.

It was that nod that relayed the news to Gregor of what he had to do.

"Will you come with me?" Gregor heatedly prompted Luke. "Will you come with me to...to the Underland?"

Luke was full of surprises, and again he astounded Gregor by not laughing at him, but instead merely furrowed his eyebrows, and inquired, "The Underland? What is that?"

Gregor took a deep breath, desperately oppressing the urge to smack Luke across the room, battering him even more, as every minute...every little microsecond...could be the time of Luxa's death. Gregor hadn't ever been the best in math, and wasn't normally in sync with time, but right now, he could literally feel the seconds hurtling past him, calling out to him to come with them but he was unable to do so.

Could he trust Luke? '

Yes, Gregor affirmed. He'd already made this choice.

There was still a part of Gregor screaming toiled curses at him for even bringing the matter up, but Gregor didn't even calculate his foes yet, and Ripred stood no apparent chance against these deadly adversaries. They'd need all the backup they could get...and Luke was a fine candidate.

To think that Luke could fend off Gregor, the impowerable rager, and survive without any broken bones Gregor's ballistic reverie...!

It was time to concede to the undeniable truth that was empowering Gregor.

And Gregor proceded to tell Luke more than he needed to ever know.

* * *

From the moment Luke regarded Ripred, Gregor knew that everything was falling into place.

Gregor led Luke from the funeral home to his shaggy, run of the mill home, and fortunately, Luke took it all in stride, not even the tints of a gullible snicker sprawled on his face.

In fact, there wasn't any questions from Luke. Or maybe there would have been later because at the moment Luke could've been so lost in thought. But seeing Luke's pragmatic face as he gazed upon Ripred, the giant rat, surely terminated all those thoughts.

"I see you've brought a new friend." Ripred yawned haphazardly, laughing at Luke's expression.

Ignoring the comment, Gregor's mouth fell open in shock as he stared at his sullied, practically polluted house. "Polluted with rat." Gregor thought darkly, as he resentfully barked at Ripred, glowering, "What the hell was all that for? You trashed my house more than 100 of those homeless people could've done in week!" _  
_

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Ripred sardonically apologized profusely. "But maybe this house wasn't the best place to keep me, especially with these paws-" Ripred took a deliberate moment to lackadaisically glance down at his puffy paws-"and these claws being dragged all over the place. And besides, I was hungry." Ripred added, his voice taking on a serious tone.

"How so?" Gregor forcefully shot back, sure that Ripred was lying.

"Well, with all the fighting going on down in the Underland, there hasn't been as much food production, because most of the people have gone off to war. And who thinks to give the peacemaker shrimp in white cream-" Ripred had a dreamy look on his face-"in the middle of war? The only one who was eating that well was Luxa, who tried to turn all the food to her down but was forced by the council, but believe me, she's not doing so well now, I presume." Ripred growled animatedly. "Now, is there still a problem or can we get down to important business?"

"Important business." Gregor scoffed. "Yeah, go ahead, is it about ravaging for more food?"

Ripred shot a look at Luke, registering each of his features, and was compelled to glower at Gregor, neutralizing him. "Yeah, I'm probably going to have to do that, because _he's _not going anywhere anytime soon." Ripred gesticulated at Luke with his sharp tail.

Gregor, for the_-_what was it, trillionth time?-was stunned. "How'd you know I wanted him to come with us?"

Ripred bitterly and exasperatedly shook his head in disgust. "Wake up, boy!" Ripred snarled. "We can't have you randomly dying out on us! It's obvious that you told him of the Underland, because you introduced him to me, and the only reason you'd do that is to take him with us! If you don't wake up now, what the hell are you going to do in the Underland besides get killed on the spot?"

Gregor did have to admit, he was feeling tired again, and the shock and awe he'd just gone through in the past-it was only an hour?-was blinding and shell-shocking his brain into virtual oblivion.

But he had too much to do, too much to find out, before he could even try to go to sleep.

"How'd you even get hurt?" Gregor heard Ripred saying to Luke. "Let me guess: that rager-" Ripred pointedly flicked his tail at Gregor as a brief sign of recognition-"demolished you without even thinking about what he was doing. As usual." Sarcasm flooded his tone, and it was all Gregor could do to not leap at Ripred and pound him into the ground.

But it would probably end up with Gregor forced onto the ground, 600 pounds of rat-600, 700?-cozily roosting on top of him, an awed Luke trying hard not to snicker.

Through gritted teeth, Gregor said in a strained voice, "I needed to see how well he could fight, because I needed to see if he was good enough to be taken into the Underland or not."

"And I suppose you had to maul him this badly _because_?" Ripred raised his eyebrows, mockingly presuming the stance of anticipating an answer.

"Look, I lost control for a minute!" Gregor absolutely implacidly argued back. "I didn't completely master this thing yet! For the past years, this was the only fight I've gotten that I've utilized my rager senses in!"

Ripred was clearly perpetually shocked. "All these years, and you fended all these people off easily without even going rager?" When Gregor nodded solemnly yet vehemently, Ripred marvelled, "Then...you really are going to be a big help. Some of the people in this world seem to be a bit above the average."

Gregor nodded at Luke. "Luke is one of those beings that surpassed those above the average...and he's probably surpassed those who are above the people above the average."

Luke felt compelled to offer a nod of gratitude at the abundant praise he'd been given, and said, "I've always trained myself."

"With what?" Gregor asked.

"My fists, boxing equipment...and I'm decent in swordplay, as well." Luke replied. It was all Gregor could do to fight the urge to embrace Luke as soon as he said he was good at swords.

As it was, he mustered out, "Well, that's reassuring. Because there's not going to be much of anything else in the Underland."

Luke nodded, and asked, "When is it that we embark on this journey?" It wasn't just the average journey, Gregor countered if only in his mind. It's a perilous, spectacular leap we have to make that we probably won't survive.

"Can I ask you a question?" Gregor prompted uneasily. "Why...why are you so eager to go to the Underland?"

It was as if Luke had forseen Gregor's alleged question, and he took a long moment to look upwards. Gregor shot a sneaky look up, to, hoping to find the answers to the universe written for him up there. Too bad. They weren't.

When Luke finally looked back at Gregor, he passively spoke, "I have nothing left to live for up here. My family...dead. My education wouldn't do much for me except make me a potential murder victim, because I would be getting money...prosperity won't back until I'm about to die of old age, or it might never come back at all."

Gregor acknowledged this forlornly, and Ripred nodded somberly. Ripred replied, "But just to be telling you...you can die in the Underland. We will not drag you into this if you don't want to go."

"I knew that from what Gregor told me." Luke replied with the toneless voice he used before.

"Anyways, nobody is going anywhere now, not with you this beaten up." Ripred snorted, glaring angrily at Gregor.

"There wasn't any way to test him without fighting him!" Gregor rebuked, but derision played in his voice. Maybe he shouldn't have hurt Luke that much...

Gregor instantly thought of something else. "We have to wait? For how long?" Gregor wailed at Ripred.

"A day or two, I guess." Ripred shrugged, futilely trying to pretend that the wait wouldn't bother him in the least.

Gregor's head throbbed with pain, and he actually thought about shoving Ripred aside and running to Central Park, where he could throw that stupid stone aside and rush into the refuge of the Underland, allowing it to swallow him up. He couldn't stand staying here for a minute more.

But Ripred would probably have to slash him up to stop him, and that would cause a further hindering delay of a few more days. But Gregor doubted that Ripred would wait that long, and he would probably be dragged down to the Underland, poor condition he'd be in.

"Why can't the doctors in Regalia treat him?" Gregor hastily whined, but he instantly regretted it, already knowing the answer.

Ripred shook his head in disgust for the umpteenth time. "Boy," Ripred viciously growled. "The doctors have enough to deal with." And he left it at that.

"To hell with all of this," Gregor groaned. "I'm going to bed." He abruptly turned, stabbing a finger at a bed to introduce Luke to his temporary bed. After hurtling a infuriated glare at Ripred, who lackadasically glanced back at him, Gregor abjectly stalked off to his bed albeit it being a few quick strides away.

Luke was puzzled as to the relationship between the rat and the rager, but decided to keep quiet, noting the despondence Gregor was sporting. Instead, he furtively glanced at Ripred, who shrugged.

"What made him so angry?" Ripred asked Luke.

"Ripred, SHUT UP!" An enraged howl escaped from Gregor's room.

"That rager, so melodramatic," Ripred sighed, feigning innocence.

More screams.

Luke was trying hard not to laugh.

**What do you guys think? Good? Bad? Please, REVIEW! I expect 500 hundred reviews. No, I'm just kidding. But that WOULD be nice...**


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